The Quidditch Player & Other Stories
by fairytalemanipulator
Summary: Series of unrelated R/Hr oneshots. Ch 3-the holiday chapter! A much needed break. Merry Christmas! Read and review.
1. The Quidditch Player

**Title: The Quidditch Player and Other Stories**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: Series of unrelated R/Hr oneshots. Hermione Granger loathed Quiddich. But then, what was it about the Quiddich players? Review!**

**A/N: Thanks to jademariepoultney for reminding me to post this story! This follows in the vein of Pink Peppermint, except it's Ron/Hermione!**

**EDIT- thanks so much to Gag Hafrunt who noticed what I STUPIDLY had not! I cannot believed I misspelled Quidditch, that has to be the worst error in this story haha, please ignore my imbecilic moment.  
**

**Chapter 1- The Quidditch Player**

Hermione Granger loathed Quidditch. But then, what was it about the Quidditch players?

Oh yes, Miss Granger hated flying, no question about it. There was something about the feeling of sturdy, solid ground under her feet that she would really rather not give up. The no-nonsense girl preferred competition in logic and reason as opposed to dastardly heights and mind-bending strategy. Quidditch required reflexes that she had from defense training, and Hermione was positive she would make a mighty good player if she could only bring herself to mount those "sticks of doom", as she bitterly called them. The few times she had been on a broom, either forcedly or required by circumstance, had been harrowing moments of utter dread. Hermione associated broomsticks with casualty and devastation, mostly because she really hadn't learned how to keep the sodding thing from switching directions on her.

And it irked her quite a bit that she, Hermione Granger, hadn't mastered a thing that was so simple compared to the centuries-old charms she could cast.

_Brightest witch of my age, my foot_, she would scoff to herself derisively, watching with jealousy and alarm as her friends would whoop and bellow with excitement while performing dangerous stunts at the Quidditch matches.

But there was _something _about Quidditch she seemed to like.

Mysteriously enough for sensible Hermione, it was the _players_.

Her first crush had been Oliver Wood. She was a first year and he was older and "oh so _suave_!" as Lavender had gushed, naturally using a "grown-up" word she had learned from her older cousin.

Oliver had always been nice to her and he had helped her more than once with her Potions homework when she was struggling with Snape's belligerent instructions. He frequented the library as much as she had her first year (and onwards), and never hesitated to give the little brunette a warm smile. She caught herself often admiring his regal stance and concentrated work ethic, as only Hermione Granger would. Hermione had fancied him for no more than a few months, however, because he was a genuinely nice bloke but she was too young and he was too…nice, perhaps? It just sort of wore off after a while, although she often felt little flickers of excitement when the handsome boy would shoot a grin in her direction. Childhood infatuations rarely lasted, though she supposed Ginny Weasley was one true exception, with her being Ginny Potter now.

Her second rather offbeat fascination was in one Viktor Krum, or as a jealous Ron scathingly referred to him as, "Vickie". That was one legitimate fancy that Hermione Granger had never seen coming; after all, he was famous and popular and she was…well, not.

Simple and plain Hermione had never fallen for someone before Krum, or so she preferred to think. During her fourth year she would wonder if Krum was simply a diversion, if she was just using him because a certain Weasley boy didn't see her as a girl…then she would banish her disloyal thoughts and turn back to Viktor, smiling unseeingly as he prattled on about this or that.

After all, Ron was her best friend! She would shake her head at the thought of anything more than that, pretending it wasn't possible, oblivious til the last minute.

She and Krum did have a rather wonderful time, though, in those short months before the tragedy befalling the end of the Triwizard Tournament. Hermione had blossomed and become more whole under his unwavering attention, and for the first time she felt noticed. Overlooked by one and all, even by her best friends, as the bookworm with no passions besides her studies, she supposed it was no surprise that they didn't think of her as a _girl_, really. So for the first time, with Viktor, she felt like one.

They had fallen out eventually, the distance becoming too much and their mutual acknowledgment of a slowly fading attraction leading to a bright friendship. Hermione regretted nothing about their short courtship, and was pleasantly surprised when Krum went on to wed a Holyhead Harpy and settle in England himself. They had remained in communication over the years, and ran into each other frequently at the Ministry and Diagon Alley.

However, starting early in her third year there was always someone else on the fringes of her consciousness—even while she was with Krum, faithful as she was to him. However much she tried to banish those treacherous thoughts, she unconsciously sensed something missing. Hermione's sleeping mind recognized what her waking self did not, and she would frequently have dreams involving flying through the air on a shaky old broomstick, clutching the waist of a redheaded someone who was so familiar with that booming laugh…what was it with the Quidditch players?

She would awaken from those dreams in a cold sweat. Shaken and startled from the feeling of her feet of the ground, Hermione was oddly comforted by the imaginary presence of a boy she felt strangely safe around.

Who was he?

Yes, Miss Granger could be a bit thick sometimes, it was true. Especially with matters of the heart.

Not until it was almost too late, not until Lavender and wars, death threats and Death Eaters did she notice what she'd been denying for far too long.

Hermione Granger was a sap for the Quidditch players, especially a certain ginger with a penchant for mincemeat pie.

Her third and final love interest was none other than her quarrelsome best friend, the childish boy with wide eyes she watched grow into a man before her very eyes, someone who had for many years denied his own growing attraction to the once bushy-haired girl. She would bemusedly recall, at certain times, his defense of her against the one and only Draco Malfoy—a very aggressive protection, she would remember. As they grew older, he would be quick to draw his wand in duel when a sneering Malfoy would goad Hermione with the Mudblood and beaver taunts. Unbeknownst to Hermione, her copper-haired companion had watched her closely and carefully in their final dangerous years, warding her against harm as much as he could, like a guardian. He had fought alongside her on the battlefields created by evil himself with barely an eye on his own fight, straining for a glimpse of her curly brown hair.

He was just as stubborn and slow with admitting his true sentiments as she was. Fact of the matter was that Ron Weasley loved Hermione Granger.

Well of course, she loved him too.

Ron Weasley also loved Quidditch. Hermione Granger did not.

But Hermione Weasley learned to feel affection for the sport, because she realized that the dangerous and weightless sensation she felt on a broomstick was the same restless stirring she experienced in the pit of her stomach every time Ron held her, kissed her, loved her. In those peculiar nighttime visions, Hermione realized that she flew with him. Then she sensed no fear, only exaltation as she realized that she could do anything with him.

And that feeling, Hermione could certainly never loathe.

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**Review please! I hope this is a good start to a long series!**


	2. Fraternizing With The Enemy

**Chapter 2- Fraternizing With The Enemy**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**A/N: Set in their fourth year. Ron's little bromance with Viktor Krum is a point of hilarity for me. Please please review! I'll love you forever.**

**---**

Ginny stared.

"Ron, you really are in love with him, aren't you?"

The Weasley in question was currently staring over at the Durmstrang entourage with undisguised admiration shining bright in his eyes. Mouth hanging open, a piece of partially chewed biscuit landed on the tablecloth dangerously close to Hermione's hand.

"Honestly, Ronald!" The curly-haired witch snatched said appendage to safety, but not before landing a sound smack on the back of the messy red head.

"Come on, guys!" Ron exclaimed, snapping back to reality. He shot a look of distaste in Hermione's direction, rubbing his scalp, before turning with excitement to Ginny who rolled her eyes and proceeded to tune him out.

"You see, Ginny, his record is FIFTEEN…"

Hermione also ignored the boy beside her, preferring instead to gaze at the focus of most girls' (and apparently, boys') attentions to figure out what it was they really saw in who she determined to be an arrogant and rather large Quiddich star. She started suddenly when, with a thrill of exhilaration, she noticed his eyes were locked with hers.

Quickly breaking the look, Hermione turned slightly, gazing behind her to see who Krum was actually trying to contact. Seeing no one but Professor Flitwick at his position up at the front, Hermione raised her eyebrows and turned back around.

Krum was stifling a grin at the antics of the young witch, and his eyes sparkled with mirth and something akin to…lust? Hermione choked on her pumpkin juice and effectively brought all the attention to herself, coughing and contorting her face into rather awkward expressions.

As Ron smacked her back with overly large hands, she failed to notice the chuckling Krum and forgot about him for the moment, preferring instead to push away the zealous concern of her best friend.

"Really, Ron?" Ginny scoffed, handing Hermione a napkin in sympathy. "If you wanted to break her bones you could have just taught her your Quiddich moves."

Ignoring his sister, Ron looked back at his friend who was looking over with a vague expression at where he had been gazing not too long ago.

A dark expression clouded his face as Ron recognized far too well the stare he caught passing between the two.

He suddenly felt an abnormal anger toward the Bulgarian seeker and didn't notice when Ginny prodded him in the side, then stole his pie.

It took quite a bit for Ron to drag his attention back to his plate, and he found he quite oddly lost his appetite.

---------------

Hermione was quietly, happily minding her own business in her own private aisle at the library as she scratched away with vigour at her Potions essay.

She was content, that is, until she heard the chorus of giggles weaving its way around the silent building, looping and echoing through the stacks of books.

Now Hermione was fuming.

She slammed her book shut, intent on finding the culprits and reporting them to Madam Pince.

Standing up and whirling around in her haste, she found herself confronted with a rather large brick wall that let out a loud "oomph" of surprise as she ran headlong into it.

Squeaking, she fell backwards onto the desk before being caught mid-fall by said brick wall, who turned out to be none other than one Viktor Krum.

Choking down an involuntary squeal, Hermione clutched at his arms to keep herself from smashing her head open.

"Hello," he murmured in a sleek accent. "Sorry to have startled you."

"It's—it's all right," she managed, still in his arms. "I suppose th-those were your fangirls making noise?"

"I apologize for that as vell," he said in a deep voice, a harmless smile on his face. "I vas vondering—may I sit here? I don't suppose they'll be able to find me this far back in the library."

Enraptured, Hermione nodded as he finally released her, lowering her gently into her seat with a flourish.

And just like that, it began.

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Crying on the steps at the Yule Ball was a low point in Hermione Granger's life. As she sobbed, Ron's words kept playing in her head. _Fraternizing with the enemy…Viktor…you're a girl, right, Hermione?...who are you going with?...enemy…Viktor…_

"I AM a girl!" She declared fiercely to no one in particular, ignoring the shrieks of surprise from a tearful huddle of witches behind her on the corner stairs. Turning and giving them a look of pity that meant to convey _I know how you feel, boys are so bloody stupid, _she continued talking to herself. "You didn't notice me, did you!"

Hermione ignored the throbbing ache in her heart as she stood suddenly and picked up her shoes, passing by the startled girls and heading up to her dorms. Who bloody cared if Ron Weasley didn't notice her? Hermione fumed and huffed down the halls of Hogwarts, frightening the snogging couples taking advantage of later curfew. Why did it matter, Ronald could bugger off for all she cared!

And so Hermione ignored the inkling of doubt that sprouted in her bosom saying that maybe it did matter to her, more than she wished to acknowledge.

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"You're being a git!" Harry raged for what was one of the few times his temper truly shone through, throwing notes on the upcoming task into his trunk. He banged it shut with a clang and Ron jumped, nervous. "Why did you have to say that? She's being standoffish with me now as well!"

"How is that my fault, mate?" Ron was confused, his wide eyes betraying him. "I was sticking up for you! She's—"

"Fraternizing with the enemy, I bloody well know you've been reciting that line for two days," Harry recounted in exasperation. "Are you really that thick, Ron?"

"He really is." The only Weasley girl popped her head into Harry's dormitory without bothering to knock, grinning. "Come on then, I'm hungry."

"Shut up, Ginny, no one asked you," Ron said scathingly, turning back to Harry. Just thinking of Viktor Krum made his blood boil, and simply demolishing the action figure he had once worshipped was not enough violence for his current mood. After all, he was Harry's enemy in this tournament! It had nothing to do with the fact that Hermione was…kissing him, most likely. Hugging him. Maybe even doing both…at the same time…on a flat surface…in a horizontal position…

Ron stopped thinking about it.

"I'm not dense, Harry! She's ruddy annoying, she is! Parading around with that stupid pumpkin headed fool, being all lovey dovey in public. Blimey! Acting like she isn't doing something wrong—"

"When are you going to admit it to yourself, Ron," Harry said, more quietly this time. Ginny had slipped out to call a greeting to her fellow third years, leaving them alone once again. "When are you going to realize?"

"Realize?" Ron repeated, brows furrowing in thought. "Realize what?"

Harry sighed. "Never mind. Come on, let's eat."

"Oy!" Ron snapped his fingers and Harry turned around, eyes glimmering with hope. "I just realized I forgot to finish McGonagall's homework! Thanks for reminding me, mate,"

The anticipation in Harry's green eyes died and he clambered out the dormitory without a backwards glance. Ron glanced at where his friend had stood, scratching his head.

"Oi, what else did I forget?"

---------------

They stood together as three, the Golden Trio once again.

Only this time, it was the stark walls of the hospital wing surrounding them as they listened to the wails of Mrs. Diggory coming from Madam Pomfrey's office.

Ron didn't care anymore about who Hermione had been with and what they had done. He, just like Harry, had just needed them to be complete.

And whole they were once again, under the most terrible of circumstances, but Ron found it hard to remember and didn't really want to think about it because Hermione's warm hand was wrapped around his own and her hot tears were trailing down that flushed cheek.

He wanted nothing more than to have her wrap her arms around him like she had done before so he could comfort her, console her, in her time of need.

But Ron was a good friend, and he remembered Harry's woe as well, turning back to his friend in time to catch the desperate look he was giving the two of them.

"He's back."

If there was any question before as to who "He" was, all was vanished now as Hermione's little hand stiffened in his own.

"We know, Harry," her sweet voice filled his ears once again and he realized how much he'd missed her, and how they couldn't go through this without each other. "We know."

"It'll be all right," Ron murmured, to both of his best friends. Really, there was nothing else to say. Words sometimes failed in the face of adversity, and this time there were more obstacles than they felt they could hurtle over.

"Remember what Dumbledore said," Hermione said softly, grasp tightening on Ron's freckled fingers. The hope in her fingers gave him strength as he felt magic pulsing through the delicate digits. "At times like these it is most important to stand together."

Ron couldn't care less about Viktor Krum at that moment, because she was with them like she always was, she was with him and with Harry and they were whole once again, they were the Trio. Because there were bigger roles at play now than stupid jealousy that Ron was sure, deep down, he would feel again but he didn't know why, couldn't understand his own emotions. He drew back to his friends, his best mates, and felt like falling down at full realization of their circumstances. Harry was faced with undeniable odds…but Hermione was back again, back to them.

He couldn't, however, help feeling a bit lost as her hand drew out of his and left coldness where warmth had filled.

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**The end.**

**Hmm. What do you think? Drop a review and let me know!**


	3. A Much Needed Break

_Author's Note: Finally updated! Happy holidays! Please review! Much love!_

**Chapter 3—A Much Needed Break**

"RONALD WEASLEY!"

"What did you do this time, mate?"

"I dunno, I swear! Oh hell, she looks like a raging bull…"

"_What_ did you just call me?"

"Ergh, nothing love. A beautiful…petunia?"

"Ronald, didn't I specifically STATE that the pecan pie was to be saved for Christmas dinner?"

"You probably did, 'Mione, the trouble is, ickle Ronniekins here has what we like to call selective hearing. Mayhaps you can beat it out of him?"

"Oh shut up George Weasley, and Percy, you stop that giggling this instant. Both of you go help your wives outside, it's freezing, go cast a useful charm to keep them warm."

"Righto then, I'll just be—"

"NOT SO FAST, Ronald! What kind of an example are you setting for the children?"

"Bloody hell, Hermione! We don't have children! Is this one of those stress-induced hallucination things Dad was talking about the other day? He says the Muggles have quite the cures for things like that,"

"Ron, there's actually steam coming out of her ears. I believe this is when you grovel."

"Gin, please, I can handle my wife, thank you very much."

"HANDLE your wife? HANDLE her? Oh because it's such a chore, is it? Well I'm sorry I volunteered our home for Christmas this year, and I'm sorry this Christmas Eve Victoire and Teddy thought it would be funny to set the chimney ablaze, and I'm SORRY I can't DEAL with your INEPTITUDE at—"

"…everything all right, dears? We just put little Victoire to bed, heard some shouting…"

"Mum, 'Mione's mad at Ron because he's a bloody pig and she was stupid enough to marry him in the first place."

"You shut up Ginevra, I'll tear your stupid braids out. And Potter, you may be married to my sister but I can revoke that permission at any time!"

"Where did Hermione go? And Ron, what will revoking your permission do when we're already married?"

"Shut up Harry. I dunno, d'you think she morphed into a banshee and ran off?"

"Ronald Weasley! How dare you speak about your wife in such a way!"

"Sorry Mum, just teasing. She knows that."

"Does she?"

"Ginny, bloody go away! Why are you in my business?"

"Because she's MY friend, and my sister-in-law, and somehow you COERCED her into loving you—really, quite a crime."

"Ronald. Leave your sister alone—no—no—stop tugging at her hair! Merlin, how old are you? No better than Teddy, you are…"

---

Ron found her upstairs, in their modest bedroom, lying facedown under the sheets.

"Hermione, please…"

"I'm sorry I overreacted, Ron," her voice was small and quiet, muffled by the pillows. "This is just extremely stressful—I suppose I didn't know what to expect when I invited the entire Weasley family over."

"Now you see why Mum's so crazy this time of year," Ron said ruefully, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed. "Come out from under there, love, you'll suffocate."

She sniffled, poking her head out from under the blankets facing away from him. The back of her head was bushy and tangled, with what looked like a caked-on streak of egg running down the side. Ron bit his lip in amusement, running a large hand over her chestnut-coloured mane. Fleur's shrieks suddenly pierced the air and husband and wife jumped simultaneously, Ron rolling his eyes.

"Honestly, that woman…" Hermione scoffed, rustling under the covers. She lay suddenly still and emitted a loud sigh that vibrated through the room. "Does it make me a bad hostess if I just lay here for a few minutes?"

"Well, does it make me a bad host if I join you?"

"Not at all, Mr. Weasley."

"Well then, Mrs. Weasley, I believe we're in the clear." Ron slipped off his brown house shoes, flipping back the comforter on his side of the bed. Hermione lay diagonally across the large space; he flipped her legs up and on top of his own as he scooted under her, her giggles making him smile.  
"I really am sorry about the pie, 'Mione. I forgot, truly. I can be a bloody fool,"

"I know that. Both parts," Hermione squealed as her husband tickled her sensitive stomach. "I forgive you. I think everyone believes I'm more insane than I actually am,"

"What's this?" Ron widened his eyes in mock amazement. "Hermione Granger finally admits to insanity? Who would've thought."

"Weasley," Hermione corrected him sharply. "Hermione Weasley. And I admit, I have my quirks—but I wasn't the one who puked up slugs."

"Hey!" Ron poked his wife in the side, wanting to hear her beautiful laughter once again. It worked, as she doubled up, chuckling, her legs coming to rest on his stomach, body nearly parallel to his. He swivelled her around, pushing her legs down and bringing her head level with his own. "I was protecting your honour, remember?"

A look of wonder crossed her face, and she buried her nose into his sweater, inhaling the scent of pine and outdoors. "You know, I hadn't actually thought about that until just now!" She mumbled into his sweater. "You're right! Merlin's pants, what a gentleman!"

It was her turn to tickle him, and he chortled, a deep laughter ringing from his throat. He trapped her small dainty hands in his large clumsy ones, feeling the soft skin around her wrists. An involuntary lump formed in his throat as he looked at the grinning face resting on his chest.

"They're going to think we skipped town, apparated to France to celebrate on our own," he grunted, letting go of her hands and pulling her closer at the same time.

"And yet, Ron, you will not let me get up." She wasn't complaining however, and he knew it. Her hair smelled like honey and yes, faintly like eggs, but he wasn't complaining either. It prickled his chin and made him smile, and reminded him of first year before she learned to tame it.

"Sorry about my hair."

"I love it anyway. Or at least, I try to."

She smacked him gently, not out of anger, and turned on her side, spooning against him. They curled up and faced the window as he nudged her with a sharp elbow. "Look! Look at the snow!"

They gazed together out of their small bedroom window into the Magical London suburban air, where tiny flakes of white whizzed about in merry ecstasy. "Looks like a white Christmas," Hermione proclaimed softly, turning to face her husband. "Guess you boys get your snowball fight after all."

He was drawn to her pink puckered lips, the faint cinnamon and softness drawing him in. He forgot about everything except for her and now, snow and Christmas and the pure love and—

"We really should get back downstairs," Hermione murmured, panting gently onto his neck. She made a move to draw away and he captured her, an arm around her waist.

"Not a chance, Mrs. Weasley."

Her giggles grew in volume as he tickled her, kissing her neck and touching her stomach. She wriggled back and forth, planting a kiss or two of her own on his face. "And to think this all started over pie!" Her flushed face was happy, joyful, and he found himself more in love than ever with this crafty woman.

"Then I should remember to not listen to you more often."

"Oh, Ronald. Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, dear,"

Mrs. Weasley stuck her head into the open doorway, ready to call the hosts to the table for supper. She stopped, however, seeing them lying peacefully, facing the window, as her son traced circles on his wife's back.

"Happy Christmas, children," she murmured quietly, backing away. Supper could wait. Hermione deserved a break.

**The end.**

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**Merry Christmas! I updated Pink Peppermint too. I was in the spirit and wanted to put something out there, I know it's not amazing but oh well! Please review! Love you all!**


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